Fata
by Tuppence
Summary: Latin for Fate. What happens when the Goddesses of Fate decide to intervene? What happens when the last three years haven't taken place? What happens to the Beboppers and do they realise the destinies that are in store for them? Chapter 1 now up. RxR
1. Prologue

**Author's note:** Ok, so this prologue is going to be beyond confusing, but that's partially the idea. (Heck, they're Goddesses. What would they be if they weren't confusing?) _**The chapters after this take place mostly in the 'Real world' again, so this will be the only chapter which is confusing to this extent. **_Some quick explanations to make the reading a little easier:

Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos are the three fates.

Clotho is in charge of the actual weaving, and is sort of in charge of the past. She nearly changes into Alecto, who is a fury (the unceasing Fury) but doesn't. She turns into Spēs, the Goddess of Hope. She returns to her Clotho form.

Lachesis begins as Saraswati, the Hindu Goddess of Wisdom and Knowledge. She then changes into her Lachesis form.

Atropos begins as herself, then changes into Dārza Māte, the Goddess of Practical Aspects (or Practicality, for the purposes of this chapter), and then returns to her Atropos form.

Basically, I imagine all Goddesses as reflecting personalities and different aspects of each other, so when one goddess starts feeling practical, she turns into Dārza Māte, or when one starts trying to find the wisest course to take, she turns into Saraswati.

As always, I don't own Cowboy Bebop. Nor do I own the names of these Goddesses – although I have created my own mythology around them (sort of).

**Fata**

**Prologue**

The temperature dropped to subzero Celsius and there was a surge in the energy. The energy felt electrical, uncomfortable, fluctuating. The air was full of dissatisfaction and it was only a matter of time before something erupted. This was the domain of the three Goddesses, their current domain. They shifted as and when they wanted. They changed into other Goddesses as and when they wanted to. They were something else altogether, a force to be reckoned with; a force to withstand; a force to be admired.

Atropos spoke first, Greek Goddess of the Future. Her skin was a pleasant golden, her face sculpted into beautiful sorrow. "And now, they're both dying." Her voice trembled piteously. She was always the most optimistic, and as a result, the disappointment was always the hardest for her to bear. The oldest of the three – so called – but who knew? Who was the one to decide that she was the oldest? "And that leaves Faye – by herself."

Clotho spoke next, Greek Goddess of the Past. She was the youngest – supposedly – and always spoke next. Her fingers were playing with each other in a nervous habit that she sometimes developed. "What do we do? It's just not working." She was beginning to grow angry. She always turned angry first, too, and this time was no different. Her nails were growing longer and sharper; her facial features were changing slightly. Her nose became stronger and straighter, a truly Roman nose. Her forehead elongated and became regal. She was slowly turning into Alecto, the Greek Unceasing Fury, and if she wasn't stopped, somebody would pay for it; some human, that is. Several probably, so the last sister intervened.

Supposedly the middle in age, but sometimes, she was the youngest or the oldest. She hadn't realised it but she herself had turned into Saraswati, the Hindu Goddess of Knowledge. Her skin had darkened into a deep, beautiful brown. Her eyes had turned large; her hair was black and fell to her waist. She was wearing a simple white sari. "We need to do something."

The other two turned towards her. Clotho was still Clotho, fortunately. Atropos spoke again, her voice still trembling. "But what do we _do_? What _can_ we do? We're bound by rules, _too_." Her voice held despair but Saraswati wasn't phased. The Saraswati in her was in full control and carefully thinking things through.

"There's always something we can do." Saraswati turned towards her. Clotho had changed into Spēs, the Roman Goddess of Hope. Her eyes sparkled like the eyes of a child did, and her lips curled upwards. Yes, she was hope. "We just need to think about it carefully. How do we make it go according to plan?"

Saraswati tapped her fingers together, something she did when there was a plan swirling in her head. The other two watched with abated breath, knowing but not knowing what the result would be. She spoke slowly and cautiously. "What if...we...started it all over again, this time." She turned towards the other two, excited now, and the atmosphere changed accordingly, warming up and colours began to swirl around the room, creating a dizzying effect.

Atropos spoke, her voice regaining its optimism. "They're still alive. They're not dead yet. Which means..."

Spēs spoke, her fingers running through her thick, brown hair. "We can unravel the tapestry. Only Julia's dead yet – we can still start this story again, right?"

"Of course we can." Atropos had regained any optimism she had ever lost. "We just need to be a little creative."

"We'll have to." Was the grim response from Saraswati.

"How do we undo Julia's death?" Atropos had transformed into Dārza Māte, the Latvian Goddess of Practical Aspects. Her face had turned heart shaped, a rich, light brown hair tumbling to her shoulders. It was time to get down to business, decide what was to be done to avert a possible disaster. "It's easy to prevent Vicious and Spike from dying but what do we do about Julia? And how do we reconcile Vicious and Spike?" She snorted. "Humans find it difficult to let go off their emotions."

Spēs returned back to her Clotho form, with little optimism or despair in her voice. This was her domain and she felt in control. There was no need for optimism; she knew just what she could do and what she would do. "I could elongate her thread – weave ends to it. Make her life last longer, but what would that accomplish? How would that change the outcome?"

Saraswati spoke again, tapping her finger together in a familiar fashion. "We change something. Otherwise, we could end up in the same place again. We have to change the parameters somehow, change the circumstances." She spoke decisively. "What do we change then?"

Dārza Māte thought out loud, slowly, tentatively but also logically. "We have to change something towards the start – the start of the ridiculous Spike and Vicious feud, I mean. If we change something later, it'll possibly be pointless."

Saraswati continued her train of thoughts. "And if we changed something too early, the alterations could be huge."

"Whitney." Clotho's voice held decision but no evidence of remorse. "We kill Whitney. We shorten his thread so that he dies around that time."

"That would alter things." Saraswati agreed, but a little doubtfully. "That would change things for Faye, but would it change things for Vicious and Spike?"

"It's destiny." Clotho suddenly seemed older than the other two. Maybe she had become older than them? She spoke sombrely. "It's their destiny. We've known it. We _know_ it. We've been unfortunate so far, but how much longer need we be?"

Dārza Māte nodded, agreeing. "Who else will have a big impact to begin with? Mao? That's too unpredictable. Shin? Lin? Too unlikely to have a large effect. Whitney is our best hope – our _only_ hope. He has to die."

Saraswati nodded finally, giving the final consent. "So we have to kill Whitney." She turned to Clotho. "Bring the tapestry."

She brought the tapestry. It was beyond what any words could describe. There were threads for everyone who was alive, and who had been alive. There were threads for those who could become alive. Each thread was a separate, individual colour, many beyond the visual scale. The threads were moving as if it were alive, changing, shifting, slowly altering to reflect the choices the humans made. Clotho placed this tapestry between her sisters.

They separated a thread from amongst the numerous, a thread that was an off-white shade. Dārza Māte returned to her Atropos form and she transformed her hand into a dagger. Saraswati had returned to her Lachesis form and she measured the thread out to the very precise point. "This is when Vicious decided to give Julia the ultimatum." She announced to the others.

"I shall cut it just before it." Atropos said, in her low, throaty voice. There was no need though. The three sisters were the one, the same and all others at the same time. They knew everything and yet, knew as little as the humans did themselves. Nevertheless, they often spoke their thoughts out loud. Atropos moved her dagger-hand towards the thread, and the atmosphere seemed to still. It seemed to await some occurrence, the way the three sisters were, and once the thread was cut, the atmosphere began to buzz with the same emotions that the three sisters were feeling.

Clotho reached her hands out towards the tapestry, drawing a sparkling blue thread towards her. Her fingers seemed to barely touch the thread, but it grew longer, all the same. She left the end undone. More often than not, the humans chose their own endings. It was only very rarely that the Fates interfered. Whitney was the first they had interfered with in a while, since they had chosen to kill Faye's family. But both actions had been necessary and so, they had been done.

Lachesis took the tapestry, holding it in the space between her hands, looking at it closely as the threads resettled amongst each other and continued pulsating. "So it begins again." She said, as the tapestry seemed to shimmer into nonexistence before their eyes. The colours in the room had mellowed down now, awaiting events, just as the three sisters were. "We now wait to see what happens." She sat down again, and the room began to shimmer with images beyond counting, of all that was taking place, all that had taken place and all that could take place.

And so it began again.

**Author's note:** I'm sorry this was so confusing, as I imagine it must have been. It was confusing for me to write too, but this was predominantly intentional. These are Goddesses after all – how in the world could we understand them? But from the next chapter, _**the majority of the actions will take place amongst humans and in the normal world. **_

I also have a feeling that this will end up eventually as a Roswell cross-over, which wasn't really my intention to begin with, but we'll see where this leads. I can tell you that any Roswell-ness won't take place for the next several chapters, for sure.

Please read and review.


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's note****: **This chapter took way longer to write than I expected. I think it's because there's very little dialogue and conversation. I had an image of the scene in this chapter, and unfortunately, it was like one of Spike's memories, all quiet with hidden messages and implications. So yeah, little dialogue but in the future ones, there'll be more action and dialogue. I won't write any notes about the goddesses in this chapter, because they don't hold a prominent role, but if it confuses anyone or if anyone thinks I should include them in the notes, could you please let me know (through a review or a message or anything).

**Disclaimer****: **I don't own Cowboy Bebop and I'm not making any money from this.

**Fata**

**Chapter I**

The domain was dark now, a swirling hurricane of maroons, midnight blues, emerald greens and black. There was a couch in one corner, something in the traditional regency style, and curled up on it was Atropos. The Greek Goddess of Future was, for all purposes, asleep, with her eyes closed and her auburn hair shielding her face, although it is debatable whether goddesses sleep at all or not. At ninety degrees to that couch was a longer couch, deep red leather, and the other two goddesses sat at one end each. Closer to Atropos, Clotho sat with her feet curled underneath her, her rich, brown hair falling a long way past her shoulders. Images were flashing in front of her, past events that had taken place but continued to entrance her. Currently, she was watching the moving death of the beautiful Isabella of Angoulême, her fiery personality slowly changing into religious penance. This had moved her deeply when it had happened, and continued to move her deeply every time it continued to happen. Sitting next to her, with her legs stretched out, was Lachesis, her dark hair matching her dark eyes that was currently focussed on a dingy, dark bar in Mars. It was her turn to keep an eye on the events that they had decided to alter.

Vicious had been sitting in this bar, which somehow managed to keep the bright sunlight out, for the best part of three hours. After downing three whiskeys on the rocks, sans soda, he had taken longer over the next three, and now, had been staring at his untouched seventh whiskey long enough for the ice to have melted completely. Having come to a decision he had been pondering this entire time, his fingers tightened around the glass as he prepared to swallow its contents in one long gulp. As the liquid slid down his throat, burning along the way, the door opened. With his eyes tightly closed, Vicious never noticed the darkness momentarily banished but he did notice the sudden lull in the bar.

Opening his eyes from necessity rather than curiosity, they fell immediately on the beautiful girl that had caused the silence. Her lack of height was compensated by the curves, which was clearly the cause for the quiet. As she walked further into the bar, he began to see the outline of her heart-shaped face; her large eyes came into focus, as did her small nose and her well-shaped thin lips. Yet it wasn't her beauty that held Vicious' eyes and attention on her. There was something else about her – it didn't so much demand attention as found it, whether she wanted it or not. She wasn't someone you could ignore, even if that was what she wanted.

Vicious watched her sit on the barstool, the presence of a man at her side going unnoticed until she turned towards him, her expressive face and emotive gestures illustrating the altercation. She was like a child, he thought. She seemed unconscious of her surroundings; she seemed as ignorant of all the leers thrown in her way as of her unsavoury surroundings. She was definitely child-like.

The man at her side seemed to capitulate, walking away with sagging shoulders but Vicious continued to look at the girl, seven whiskeys coursing through his bloodstreams with an empty stomach on top. He felt some vestige of amusement as she ordered a drink with triumph. _That_ was what they were arguing over? His eyes narrowed as he looked her over; she looked little more than eighteen, which seemed to justify the possible contention. Best to protect innocence when you can, he supposed. There was another surge of amusement as he saw her take a sip of whatever liqueur was in the glass and make a disgusted face. She was definitely an innocent – something rare to come by in Mars and he found himself being envious of her. He didn't want her to not be innocent; he just wished he had some innocence left in him, but Julia and Spike had managed to take any that was left.

Julia and Spike...Vicious slammed his empty glass on the table loud enough to attract the attention of everyone in the bar, including the girl, who turned around to look at him curiously. He wondered if she knew who he was. He was famous, or infamous, according to the various people. She was still looking at him, he realised. Turning up his lips into as cruel a grimace as he could, he watched with a contradictory satisfaction as she physically recoiled from his glance. But she still watched him. For just a few precious seconds, Vicious toyed with the idea of taking out his gun and pointing it in her direction. That would make her run away fast enough! But it seemed that he had enough justice left in him to accept that, if he had spent his time staring at her, she should be allowed to do the same, so he instead rapped his knuckles on the table, demanding another whiskey instantly.

With a new glass of whiskey in front of him, he looked over at her again, to find her talking animatedly to the man sitting next to her. He watched with not a little amusement that she carefully schooled her face to show no distaste, when she sipped her drink. It was a childish move and emphasised her innocence all the more. He drank his own drink in one long gulp, unaware of any burning down his throat. It was like water to him; had been like water to him since he had begun to have suspicions of Spike and Julia. He was surprised to not feel a familiar fury rising in him at the thought, but maybe it was because he was staring at the animated girl in front of him?

The door opened once more, allowing some rare sunlight in, but Vicious spared only a glance at the ISSP officers entering the bar. This was firmly in the Red Dragon area, so if any officers entered the bar, it was for a drink or to broker a deal. Turning back to the girl, his brow furrowed as he saw agitation and fear written clearly across the face. It appeared that the girl was not so innocent after all, but surely she knew that it would be fatal to show awareness of the ISSP officers? It would alert them to her presence and they would take advantage of that – an elementary principle mastered by the time anyone turned 13.

But it wasn't mastered by the girl. Standing up suddenly, she spilled the remains of her drinks and turned her barstool over. As if that wasn't enough to announce her presence, she turned a frightened glance at the three ISSP officers. Vicious didn't have to turn to the officers to know that they had noticed, but his eyes turned there anyway. On all three faces, there was an expression of triumph mixed with lewd desire and sadistic craving. As intense as it was sudden, anger erupted through him, with traces of protectiveness underlying it all. He found a gun clutched in his hand before becoming aware that he was standing up. Now that he was standing up and clutching a gun, he wasn't sure what to do next. It would look more than a little odd if he shot the ISSP officers like that (although he was fast achieving infamy as someone reckless with lives) but he couldn't allow the ISSP officers to get the girl. From their faces, he knew how they would use her and it wouldn't be for career advances or bounty money.

In the end, Vicious never had to make a decision; it was taken out of his hands. The girl, ignoring calls to stand still, pushed the nervous man ahead of her, heading for the exit at the back of the bar. The three ISSP officers cocked their guns, pointing at the girl, ready to attack. They would take almost as much pleasure in killing the girl as they would in using her in other ways. Vicious knew because there was not much, if anything, separating the ISSP from the crime syndicates. However, there was some latent kindness or compassion in him that made him want to protect the girl, so when the first shot was fired his fingers reacted automatically, shooting the officer in the chest region; One down, two left as threats. Eyes darted back to the girl to see her dragging the man behind her, and Vicious cursed him angrily inside his head for moving so slowly and clumsily. A heart wrenching scream later, the man was falling over, crimson spreading from him generously. There was no hope – that much blood meant a major artery or vein nicked, which also meant that he'd need instant medical attention to survive. Good luck on finding that in this area. The scream connected him all the more to the girl, sounding what he was feeling and he felt some vindictive satisfaction at the look of devastation on the young face. Though protecting the innocence, he felt justification in celebrating some of its loss. Nevertheless, his desire to protect her innocence had become an obsession, like many things had recently. He didn't just _want_ her to survive now, he _needed_ her to.

He turned to the remaining officers to find that they had multiplied to...well, it didn't matter; Not enough to spend the precious seconds before they shot the girl dead by counting them. It was a case of bullets flying around attracting the herds, as always. He took careful aim and shot one in the chest area, another in the head. He had been taught to shoot when ammunition was a scarce resource. Using a few seconds to take careful aim before shooting was just as effective as shooting bullets everywhere and anywhere; it was also cheaper. Before he could shoot the others, they were firing in his direction and he was jumping behind overturned tables as some people ran out of the bar. Most added to the bullets flying around and through all the gunfire and death and screaming, he imagined that he could hear the girl sobbing over the man, hands pressing down on the wounds, trying to stem the blood flow. A quick glance in her direction verified it. She was crying, possibly hysterically, over the pathetic, commonplace, and possibly dead guy, and there was another surge of anger in him.

It was funny, in a very non-humorous, that just when he had decided that all of his emotions were dead and good and gone, and just when he had made what felt like one of the most important decisions in his life, one of those that absolutely changed the course of his future, a little innocent girl comes into _his_ bar, arguing to get a drink, pretending she likes its taste, and everything's changed. Emotions come back, sudden and miserably intense. Two more officers killed by him, and one person who had possibly been fighting on his side. Always assuming he had a side, of course, which he didn't. But that poor sod didn't know that. The death was easy to shrug off. Not so much the girl. Eyes turned back to her automatically and the furrow in his forehead deepened. Damning and cursing the girl mentally, he began to manoeuvre towards her, shooting a couple more men down, staying behind tables and successfully dodging bullets. Finally reaching her, he spoke to her for the first time since developing an obsession over her and her stupid innocence.

"Get out! Get out of the bar. Just get the fuck out." She didn't seem to hear him. Or maybe she was unable to move. "GET OUT! GET OUT OF THE FUCKING BAR!" Seeing no response from the corner of his eyes, he reluctantly turned his back on the attacking bullets, grabbing the girl's arm painfully and shaking it. She finally looked up at him, large eyes wider than usual with pain, terror and probably shock. "Get OUT!" Before she could look down at the dead body, he shook her again. "He's dead. There's nothing you can do. He's DEAD, so get the fuck out." He yanked her arm up, forcing her to awkwardly stand up and he pushed her towards the back, turning back to the fight and shooting one more person down. He turned around back to her, screaming at her to leave and she seemed to get the message, after being splattered with blood from a man standing close to her. Vicious fired a few more shots, turned back to see the girl scrambling through the door to the back, and found a pain breaking through his drunken haze, searing through his left arm. He turned his attention back to the ongoing shower of bullets too late – another pain shot through his shooting arm, this one lacking the intensity. Fortunately, it seemed to be just a flesh wound. He resumed shooting; one down, another dead, a third injured. And then, there was another sting, this time in his shooting shoulder, turning into a persistent throb. He felt his legs shaking, losing strength, and he knew this was the final adieu. It occurred to him that maybe this would pave the way for Julia and Spike to be happy. Despite constant brooding and coming up with any and every scenario, it had never occurred to him that his death would perhaps be the least messy of them all. It seemed obvious now, as he successfully shot another person. And he had found an innocent girl to focus on, leaving a bittersweet aroma, rather than the sour taste left by any thoughts of Julia or Spike. A half smile touched his lips, the first in several days. Onto the next great adventure, he thought, and then he sank to his feet, his strength finally giving out, with the hail of bullets sounding comfortingly familiar. He wondered if this was euphoria or bliss, to just not care when his vision began to blur. Dimly, he felt hands holding him, poking at his wounds, but the pain was felt through a cloud of indifference. It was the end and that was all that mattered to him, his world fading in and out of darkness.

In a lair just as dark as Vicious' world, Atropos stretched her body, her auburn hair shading from auburn to bright red alternately. "That's a dramatic change."

Clotho only muttered a distracted agreement but Lachesis, turning into an enthusiastic Danu with curly red hair and glimmering blue eyes, expressed sorrow over the pain of all those people. Clotho again muttered an agreement but Atropos focused fully on the situation at Mars, turned into Dānu, the Indian goddess associated with water. Her skin took on a bluish tint, with veins prominent on the skin. Her eyes were a watery blue-green, her wet hair holding a dark blue tint.

"The changes were far more dramatic than expected." This was a lie, of course. They knew what would happen before it happened, yet knew very little. There was a cunning look in her eyes, but she could do little about the situation. There were rules even for those who were above rules. There were always rules, always limitations, and really, she wasn't even close to the top of the chain of command. They were many above her, with fewer limitations and fewer rules governing them. The extent of those above her, even she didn't know, although she had some ideas.

"Don't think about it," Clotho uttered distractedly, another futile statement but they weren't above futile thoughts, either. She yawned and curled up, as the other two now stared at the happenings on Mars. As always, the three goddesses were fascinated by the events taking place, and taking an interest that probably broke some of the rules governing them.

**Author's notes****: **Let me know what you think of this chapter. Please give me some feedback, if you have the time. It's the only way I know I'm doing something right or wrong. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. I quite like this story, and it seems to be developing well by itself. Au revoir for now. I'm off to India for 3 weeks this Friday, so there won't be an update for about a month.


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